


strangers waiting up and down the bulevard

by youhaventyet



Series: you looked like the sun [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, AoKise Week, M/M, Tattoo Artist!Aomine, idol!Kise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youhaventyet/pseuds/youhaventyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want nipple piercings,” Kise says, candid as snow. Aomine chokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strangers waiting up and down the bulevard

**Author's Note:**

> not-as-late-as-it-could-have-been award.
> 
> I took the prompt change as body modification, obvs, but also as Kise wanting to get out of his stifling life.
> 
> i had so much fun writing this, i just love mods and the like~ Title from Journey's _Don't Stop Believing_ because writing while listening to it is very pumping.

The first time Aomine meets Kise Ryouta, he’s pissed drunk and stumbling into his parlor what must be a couple of hours after closing time.

He’s on the back when he hears the door slam open, and he thinks someone must’ve forgotten something - judging from all the noise, probably that idiot Kagami - but then he also hears a loud crash, a thump and somebody giggling, and that is definitely a voice he doesn’t know.

Cursing Kuroko, who has probably forgotten to turn the closed sign and is thus is the worst shopkeeper ever (but also probably the only tattooer in Japan who can ink even the most complicated kanji without fucking it up), he makes his way to the front of the shop with the tattoo machine he was cleaning still in his hand.

“Who the fuck…” he starts to ask, before he peeks out from behind the counter and his voice dies in his throat.

Sprawled on the floor, long, long legs half out of the door, the umbrella holder into which he must have stumbled fallen near him, halo of blond hair in disarray around his head, there’s the guy whose face has been laughing, smiling and winking from every single billboard in Ikebukuro ever since he was a teenager.

“Oh my god, are you drunk?” Aomine hears himself ask, when really, that being obvious, the only question here is _what the fuck are you doing in my shop?_

At that, Kise Ryouta tilts his head back, sees him gaping behind the counter, and giggles, even more high-pitched than he did when he fell on the floor.

“Hot man with a gun,” he says, still laughing, and then makes finger-guns at him and clicks his tongue. “Bang!”

 

Fifteen excruciating minutes later, after he’s helped Kise stand up, brought him to the service toilet and has unceremoniously shoved his head under the open faucet, making him squeal and squirm, he finds himself passing a water bottle to one of Japan’s most famous idols while the guy sits sullenly and somewhat sober on one of the sofas in the waiting room.

He should’ve listened to Satsuki when she told him to leave the closing up to someone else. “Come on, Dai-chan, it’s your birthday! You can let Himuro-kun do it!”

“Nah, you go on. I’ll join you when I’m done. And take that cake with you, how many times do I have to tell you that brining food in the shop is unhygienic?”

 _Nice fucking birthday_ , he thinks now, watching Kise fucking Ryouta drain the water and somehow make a production out of it even with his hair drying all jacked up and what must be makeup staining his cheeks

“I’m really sorry for the inconvenience,” Kise says in the end, his voice sounding way less high-pitched now that he’s sober. “I… Uhm. Thank you for not kicking me out, really.” His fingers tighten on the now empty water bottle, making the plastic crinkle. 

Aomine plucks it out of his fingers and throws it into the trash basket. “Stop fidgeting, I’m not gonna call the paparazzi on you.” He sighs. “How troublesome. It’s my birthday, you know?”

“Oh,” Kise says, eyes going wide. Even without whatever junk is now staining his face, his eyelashes still look retardedly long. “I’m so sorry! Then happy birthday, uhm…”

“Aomine,” he sighs. “Aomine Daiki. Now that you’re sober, would you like to get out?”

“Happy birthday, Aomine-kun,” Kise says, warmly, and then, in less than a second, his smile turns into a pout. “I thought you would be a gentle person, but you’re so mean! What if I stepped into your shop with a purpose in mind?”

Aomine laughs. “I doubt anybody that drunk could still hold onto whatever purpose they had, and anyway, even if you wanted something, we’re closed.” He checked - Kuroko had turned the sign, after all.

Kise whines, and Aomine has no idea of how he manages to make it sound mocking. “But couldn’t you make an exception just for me, please? In exchange for ruining my makeup?” He touches his face with this kind of pathetic expression that makes Aomine snort, and then choke a bit when he rubs under his eye to get rid of something, all nimble, delicate fingers and thin skin.

Kise grins, a sly curl to his lips but his eyes still pleading.

“What the hell, what do you want?” Aomine caves. In some way, that face reminds him of the one Kuroko used to make at Kagami when he was trying to convince him to get a puppy. Kuroko won, because Kagami is completely whipped. Maybe it isn’t a very cleaver analogy.

“I don’t know. What about a piercing? I don’t know if I have enough money on me to get a tattoo right now, and that seems kind of too permanent, don’t you think? Do you do piercings, Aomine-kun?”

“Uhm. I do have the license, but I’m not as good as the guy who usually does them.” Probably because the people who got pierced by Himuro were too entranced by his pretty face to even notice the needle piercing their skin. “It’ll hurt a bit more.”

“It’s fine,” Kise says, and then looks down at his hands, an oddly shy gesture, too caught open to be just an act. “I live such a pampered life, it’s better if it hurts a little.”

Aomine clears his throat, not knowing what to say. “Ok. Well, then, let’s move to the back.”

Kise follows him like a puppy, and sits on the chair with a little excited jump.

“So, where?” Aomine asks, looking at him from the cabinet where they keep the needles.

“Uhm, here,” Kise says, and then taps his left earlobe.

Aomine laughs. “All this fuss for an earlobe? What are you, a kid?”

Kise pouts at him. “Just get on with it, Aominecchi.”

“Where does all this confidence comes from, Kise?” he shots back, and looks as his eyes widen. 

It’s Kise’s turn to laugh. “People haven’t been this straight-forward with me in years,” he says. “And anyway, don’t mock my choice. I just want to change my appearance up a bit, I’m too young to already look this plain!”

“You don’t look plain at all,” Aomine replies, and feels his ears heat up. He covers up his embarrassment by coming closer - terrible plan - and pinning up Kise’s damp hair with a couple of clips, the consistence of it between his fingers silky and water-like. “Just one ear?”

“Yeah.”

Kise chooses a blue hoop as Aomine puts on gloves, and then sits perfectly still, humming tunelessly, eyelids half closed, as Aomine rubs his lobe with disinfectant. “Are your ears sensitive?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Fine, fine.” He marks the spot with a pen and then hands Kise a mirror. “Is here ok?”

“Sure. I trust you, Aominecchi.”

That startles him a bit. “Well, ok.” He clears his throat. “I’m gonna use a needle, not a gun. It’ll be a bit painful, but you’re a big kid, aren’t you?”

“Stop making fun of me, I said.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Here I come,” he takes the needle out of its wrapper, puts the tip to the black dot and counts down from three before he starts pushing in. Kise hisses, but sits still, and Aomine doesn’t have time to look at his face as he puts the pointy part of the hoop inside the hollow needle, tugs it out of Kise’s ear and then clips the hoop shut.

“Done,” he says, tugging the gloves off and throwing them in the trash before turning back to Kise. “How does it feel?”

“Weird,” Kise answers, almost a whine, and Aomine can see that his eyes are prickling with tears. He takes the mirror from his lap, where Aomine left it, and looks at his ear. “It looks really good!” He smiles, blinding. “And I like the colour, too. It’s the same shade as your eyes, I’ll think about you whenever I look at it, Aominecchi!”

Before Aomine can blow a fuse trying to find an answer, his phone vibrates in his pocket. “Ah… sorry.” He knows it’s Satsuki even before he takes it out and answers. 

“Dai-chan! Where are you?” She’s shouting to be heard over the racket in the background. Those bastards, of course they started without him.

“Yeah, I know, I’m late. Something came up. I’ll be there in a bit, and tell those assholes thanks for having started without me.”

“I’m sorry, Dai-chan, but you know how Mukkun gets when he sees sweets, and Kagamin was hungry, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m closing up now, be there in a few,” he pockets his phone again and then looks at Kise, who’s fiddling with the clips he took out of his hair. “Sorry about that. Listen, about your piercing: clean it up three times a day with a cotton swab and this disinfectant,” he chucks a small bottle of the stuff at Kise. He catches it with surprisingly good reflexes, “and after you’ve disinfected it roll it around a bit. Otherwise don’t touch it, don’t let anything touch it and don’t take the earring out for at least a month. If it feels or looks weird, come back and we’ll fix it.”

“Ok,” Kise replies, too plainly for how bubbly he’s been until now. Maybe the hangover is catching up to him, Aomine muses as he throws away the used needle and puts everything back in its place.

As Aomine is ushering him out of the back, though, Kise asks: “Was that your girlfriend, Aominecchi?” his voice almost small.

Aomine chokes on his spit. “What? No, she's my friend.” He shudders at the mere thought of dating Satsuki.

“…oh.” Kise breathes out, and then laughs. “Sorry for being nosy. How much do I owe you?”

“Uhm, nothing. It’s ok. Like a birthday gift,” he stutters.

“Eeh?! But it’s _your_ birthday, Aominecchi.”

“Yeah, well.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand. “On the house.” He turns off the lights in the back room, without thinking about it, and suddenly the only light is coming from the street lamps outside. He can see the tips of Kise’s hair glitter, and the shimmer of his eyes. “Let’s go, then.”

“Ok.”

They walk out of the door, and Kise stops behind him as he locks up. “Do you need a lift?” Aomine asks as he turns the key.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Aominecchi.”

He turns around, about to ask _for what_ , but the words die in his throat when Kise puts a hand on his nape and tugs him down, and kisses him, just like that, mouth open and wet, tasting of alcohol still and something sweeter.

“Are you still drunk?” Aomine breathes out, after Kise’s stopped kissing him but is still hanging all over him.

“Nope,” Kise laughs, popping the p. “I just wanted to do it.” He disentangles himself from Aomine - and when did his hands end up on his waist, what the hell - and then skips away, calling out: “See you, Aominecchi!”

He looks at him go, and then whispers: “Shit.” Well, now he sure isn’t in the mood for his birthday party.

 

Two days later, when Aomine would like to tell himself that he’s forgotten everything about the bubbly idol who crashed into his parlor at an ungodly hour, badgered him into piercing him and then kissed him like he wanted to suck his soul out of his mouth, Satsuki barges into the shop with a magazine held tightly in her hand.

“Dai-chan!” she bellows, very unlady-like, and then flushes and looks around to check that Kuroko is out. Even though she’s given up on her crush on him ever since he and Kagami had their faithful encounter, or whatever they want to call it, she still likes to act like a delicate maid around him.

“Don’t worry, Tetsu’s out,” he reassures her, even though she should probably worry more about the fact that she’s startled half of their clients and that he’s currently working on a guy’s sleeve. “What’s got you so excited?” he asks, stopping for a moment.

“Ki-chan's got a piercing!” she declares, like a shogun would declare war, and then shoves the magazine she’s holding under his nose. He feels himself breaking in a cold sweat when he sees the picture of Kise walking out of some café, perfect hair and immaculate clothes, sunglasses and a picture-perfect smile on his face, as if, even though he wasn’t turned towards the lens of the photographer, he’d known they were there. Next to the picture, there’s a close up of his ear, and the blue earring hanging off of it.

 _It’s the same shade as your eyes, I’ll think about you whenever I look at it, Aominecchi!_ What an idiot.

“I already told you not to call him that, it’s not like you know him.”

“You call Horikata Mai just Mai-chan all the time, Dai-chan, don’t be an hypocrite. Anyway, he looks so good with it, doesn’t he? Right, Ta-chan?”

Takao, who’s inking some kind of watercolor tattoo on a girl’s back, rises his head, takes a look, and hums. “Yeah, pretty as ever.”

“I wonder where he got it done,” Satsuki muses, starry-eyed.

“Yeah…” Aomine mutters, starting up again. He knows he’s made a mistake when Satsuki doesn’t reply, just stares at him with an intensity that usually means he’s in trouble.

“Dai-chan…”

“I’m working, Satsuki-”

“…The thing that came up the other night…”

“Satsuki,” he drawls, almost a plead.

She gasps. “Don’t tell me…!”

“Working! Get out!”

“Oh my god! Don’t think you’re getting out of it like this, I’ll be back!” That said, she walks out, slamming the door after herself.

“Women, right?” the guy in his chair says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Aomine glares at him and stabs him harder with the needles.

 

But Satsuki doesn’t have the time to grill him about Kise, because that same evening, as he’s closing up shop with Takao, the door opens and, for the second time, Kise gets in - much quieter than the first time, and considerably more put together.

Takao gapes. Aomine feels himself go warm and then cold and then _hot_ , his ears probably steaming. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Mean, Aominecchi!” Kise chides, and smiles. “Is it how you treat a dear customer?”

Aomine snorts. Takao chooses this moment to say: “What’s going on, Dai-chan?” disbelieving.

“Don’t call me that,” Aomine growls, right as Kise turns his one hundred watts smile towards Takao.

“Nice to meet you! Aominecchi was the one who pierced my ear. And he made fun of me because it was such a common place, so I came back for seconds,” he looks towards Aomine, now, and his smile becomes wicked, suggestive. It makes him think about the other night; the little flick of his tongue against his bottom lip, how eager his mouth had been.

“Ok.” He exhales through his nose, hard. “Takao, out. I’ll take care of this idiot and close up.”

“But I wanted to talk with Kise-san,” Takao whines, and it makes Kise laugh.

“This tone works with fucking Midorima, not with me. Get out.”

“Ugh, so stingy! Alright, alright.” Takao goes around the counter to get his messenger bag, and when he’s at the door, phone already in hand, he says: “You won’t mind if I tell Momoi-chan about it, right, Dai-chan?” Before Aomine can give him hell, he scampers out, laughing.

“Asshole,” he grits, before he turns towards Kise, and asks, “What?”

“Don’t be in a bad mood, Aominecchi, I came back to see you!” Kise flutters his eyelashes, and Aomine has to pinch the bridge of his nose, thinking _Kise must be even worse than Takao_.

He sighs. “Okay. What do you want?”

“I want nipple piercings,” Kise says, candid as snow. Aomine chokes.

“Why the hell didn’t you come when the piercer was in, then? I told you he’s better!”

“You did just fine with my ear. Also, I don’t know if I would be ok with letting a stranger see my naked chest.” He pouts, angelic.

“Everybody in Japan has seen your naked chest at least once.”

“Are you calling me a harlot, Aominecchi?” His lower lip is honest-to-god trembling.

Aomine groans. “Stop it with that face and come in the back, alright.”

Kise smiles, satisfied, knowing he’s won.

 

Kise is wearing a white crisp shirt, and he unbuttons it leisurely while Aomine takes out the things he needs, trying not to stare at him from the corner of his eye.

Kise settles in the chair, his legs spread and his head thrown back, relaxed, like he’s tired. “My manager gave me hell for the piercing, you know? She was so disappointed, told me she’d always tried to make me look like a good boy, the ones girls want to go to on dates and stuff with.” He laughs, almost a sneer. “But I was so tired of that.”

“That sounds like something you’d say to describe a dog,” Aomine remarks, and then thinks, _what the hell, why not._ “I never pegged you as a good boy, to be honest.”

“Oh, Aominecchi,” Kise coos, and brings a hand to his face, as if to hide a blush.

“Shut up,” he mutters, as he douses a square of cotton gauze with disinfectant. He’s careful as he rubs it over Kise’s nipples, watching them harden and trying not to blush. “It won’t be much different from what I did with your ear. I hold your nipple with these tweezers and then pierce it with the needle.” He takes the marker to put little dots where the holes will go. “It’ll hurt, so keep quiet and try to sit still. Hope you’re not too sensitive.”

He looks up at Kise to gauge his reaction, and almost gulps when he finds him smiling down at him, his face sweet; not a ploy, this time. “I trust you.”

“Ugh. Cheesy.”

“I’m a romantic,” Kise says, fluttering his eyelashes, and like that almost all of his sincerity is gone.

“I hope it hurts so bad you scream,” Aomine mutters, and hears Kise snicker and make this kind of _oooh_ sound that would make lesser people blush.

“Shut up, I’m starting,” He puts the needle to Kise’s nipple, holding the tweezer in his other hand, and once again counts down from three before he starts pushing in. 

Kise whines, in a way that would sound more appropriate in an AV. His neck is straining, tendons thrown in sharp relief, and Aomine, realizing he’s gaping, hurriedly shuts his mouth and gets the first piercing done to keep his hands from trembling. He screws the ball on carefully, and then asks: “Ok?”

“Yeah, go on.” Kise’s voice is so breathy he doesn’t dare look up at his face. It’s probably flushed; his chest sure is. Aomine takes a new needle and starts on the second piercing to stop himself from wondering if Kise goes this pink in bed, too.

“Three, two, one…” The needle goes in, and Kise moans, outright and fucking indecent, his stomach heaving under Aomine’s forearm. He puts the second piercing in, screws it shut, and then sighs.

While he takes his gloves off and chucks them in the bin, he tells himself he has to look up. When he does, his motuh dries up. Kise really is blushing, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose a bright pink, his eyes shining and too-long eyelashes wet. He’s staring at him and he looks so adoring that Aomine just has to go and ruin it. “Are you some kind of pain freak?” he asks, and then wants to slap himself in the face.

But Kise just laughs, still looking thoroughly charmed, and what the hell has he done to deserve this kind of attention, he doesn’t know. “Maybe I am,” he grins, rising a hand to touch Aomine’s cheek, and then, almost thoughtful, he adds; “Although I don’t like pain as much as your hands on me, I guess.”

Aomine groans “You’re so sappy,” but he can’t help himself when he scrambles up to get on the chair, his knees on either side of Kise’s body but their chests apart - he’s still a professional, goddamnit - and kisses him, full on the mouth. Kise’s lips part even before he has the time to urge him to do so, and his hands are sneaking into his hair, tugging on it. 

Aomine moans, grinds down on him, feeling him already hard in his pants, and has to tear himself away to look at Kise’s face.

“You’re really hot, Aominecchi,” Kise breathes out. “I can’t wait to see your tattoos.”

Aomine laughs. “I’ve got a panther on my back, if you want to know.”

“Oh my god, what a fucking thug,” Kise chukles, husky, before he tugs him back towards his mouth.

Kise is the best kisser, his tongue doing dirty-hot things in his mouth, whining shamelessly when Aomine starts kissing up and down his neck, sucking on his right earlobe. It’s only when he feels Kise’s fingers creep up under his shirt that he puts his hands on his shoulders and pushes him back. “Stop. Stop, I won’t fuck you in the studio, do you know how fucking unhygienic that is?”

Kise blinks up at him, looking dazed and so fucking hot, even hotter when he says “Then take me home, would you?”

Aomine groans, getting off of him. “Yes, I would.”

**Author's Note:**

> some more info: Aomine does the black work, Takao works with colours, Kuroko is good with lettering, Himuro is the piercer, although all of them do a bit of each. Momoi is, as always, too cleaver for all of them and takes care of the parlour's finances.
> 
> Kagami and Kuroko's faithful meeting happened when Himuro forgot his bento and Kagami brought it to him, and then decided he wanted a tattoo just so he could hang around Kuroko.
> 
> Midorima and Takao met just because it was raining really hard and Midorima took shelter in the studio.
> 
> …considering how many ideas i've got, maybe I'll write a sequel.


End file.
